


Signed, Sealed, Delivered

by ikigai (fencingfox)



Series: P/T Word of the Day [17]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, One Word Prompts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/ikigai
Summary: Suppose Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris told the truth about Caldik Prime.He might lose a pip. He could be forced to take a spy assignment to appease his father and prove his devotion to Starfleet, the only place he's ever known. When Seska discovers him, he might just convince a certain Maquis engineer to return with him.Of course, plans more often then not go awry before they go right.
Relationships: Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: P/T Word of the Day [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613410
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Emblazon

**Author's Note:**

> Also yes, I did have that Stevie Wonder song in mind when I titled this. No copyright intended.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) conspicuously inscribe or display a design on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this one. I started the chapter hoping to do something horror-y but I'm not that good at horror (hence why I wanted to practice).
> 
> The posting a story chapter instead of a new story worked pretty well last time. It also lets me actually write only ~1k words a day since I'm not worried about finishing a whole story in that time. I do intend to keep this SFB for you emotionally-invested types, so things will end well for our heroes...
> 
> ...eventually.
> 
> :D

B'Elanna furtively closed the communication window on her terminal just as she heard Tom's foot steps approach. The hairs at the back of her neck rose when he got closer. Having seen the order to kill him but not having the time to learn why deeply disturbed her.

"Ready?" Tom asked.

She nodded as Tom took his seat at the helm, "I was waiting for you. What took so long?"

"Forgive me for being pee-shy on a shuttle with a beautiful woman," he commented, throwing a grin back at her. She shook her head and opened the communication window again. The last sentence decoded read, "Seska discovered Tuvok and Paris are Starfleet spies." Her eyes widened a fraction of a degree as she reread the whole message.

Tom's station beeped at him. Looking for the reason revealed he had a message from Tuvok. Tapping it with his pinkie, he read, "The Maquis know we are from Starfleet. Remember section 437." Tom reread the message, bile rising in his throat. Section 437, the prisoners of war section. Specifically, it was the add-in paragraph that protected Starfleet officers from murder trials when in life and death situations that might not otherwise be considered self-defense.

Tuvok wanted him to know he might have to kill B'Elanna.

No. He wouldn't do it. He rather liked her and he rather hated being a spy. This could be a good thing. They were alone on the runabout shuttle. He could tell her now before they got back. Then...what? She might kill him anyway. He shook his head and closed the window after deleting the message. The Maquis insignia reappeared in the background of the touch navigation. On his command, the shuttle rocketed forward, gluing him to his seat back for a moment until the inertial dampeners began compensating.

"So..." Tom started, unsure now where to go with a conversation. "What—"

"Can you take a look at this reading for me?" B'Elanna interrupted.

"Uh, sure. Send it to my terminal."

"I think it's an error on my end, so I need you to look at it here."

Tom looked back at B'Elanna, trying to read her unreadable expression. She didn't look dangerous, but then again her file described her as volatile and anger-prone. He also happened to know that her pick-me-up meal is banana pancakes with orange juice. He knew her favorite color is blue. He knew she has the sweetest smile when she wears one. "Alright." He faced forward in his chair. "Let me just kill the engines."

The shuttle slowed to a stop as B'Elanna palmed the knife from her boot to her right hand. Tom faced the other way so there was little chance of him seeing. Still, she needed to be cautious. He and Tuvok fooled everyone for months. She wasn't about to let him in on her plan.

Tom stood and approached B'Elanna's station, leaning ever so slightly on it to see better. "Where's the reading?"

"I think I need my tools for this one too." B'Elanna slipped out of her chair. Tom stepped aside. B'Elanna passed him as if she were crossing to the compartment where she'd stowed her tools. Instead of going the full distance, she kicked his legs out from under him.

Tom caught his fall on his butt and hands. Before he could scramble back to his feet, B'Elanna straddled him, pinning his arms to his sides. A cold, sharp line pressed against his throat. He worried to swallow for fear the motion would slice his throat open for her.

"B'Elanna?" He whispered.

"You're a spy," she hissed.

"I—" There wasn't anything to gain by denying it. "I am." The pressure on his throat increased. "But I don't want to be."

"Why?" she growled.

"I just don't."

"Not good enough." The pressure increased until Tom felt a trickle of blood.

"Please. Don't."

"Then explain." The lines of her body exuded hardness. Every part of her looked like a threat to Tom.

"Did Chakotay tell you anything about what I was before I came here?"

"He said you lied at a hearing about killing people on the job. They kicked you out."

"I never lied. When my mother checked on me in the hospital, I told her everything. She told me to tell my father, who told the board who wanted to keep me around." The knife's tug on his skin lessened. "He didn't want to look like my relationship to him, an Admiral, earned me preferential treatment. I lost a pip. I lost my flight license."

"That doesn't explain why you are here now." B'Elanna didn't have time for this bleeding-heart story. Tom was dangerous.

"My father suggested I go away for a while until things cooled down. He found me a promising subterfuge that needed a second man. I didn't want it but he'd already put my papers in. So much for no preferential treatment." Tom winced when the blade bit into his skin again.

"You talk too much. Tell me why I shouldn't slit your throat."

"I've never given them any good information."

B'Elanna blinked. Wasn't information the whole point of being a spy? "What?"

"I get the cause. I understand it." He hoped he wouldn't have to explain further.

"What about Tuvok?"

"I don't know what he sends."

Suspended in the shuttle with no Maquis nearby aught to make B'Elanna more cautious. Instead, she pulled the knife from Tom's throat, realizing for the first time that she had her hips only a few centimeters north of his. She scrambled up and watched Tom sit to rub his throat, taking his hand away to look for blood. The nick on his throat was small, but it had bled. Tom kept an eye on her while he backed to the medkit stowed in the corner across from her desk.

"Thanks," he commented as he ran the dermal regenerator over his cut. "I take it somebody told you to kill me?"


	2. Relegate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) assign an inferior rank, position, or task to

B'Elanna nodded curtly, "Yes. Chakotay." She narrowed her eyes at him, "He'll want to kill you if you go back."

"Then we don't go back."

" _We_?"

"Won't they be irked that you didn't kill me?"

B'Elanna shook her head with frustration as she went back to her chair. She retorted, "I'm not a Federation spy. They won't care." Tom leaned on the console, mere centimeters away. She growled warningly, but he didn't back off. "I could still kill you."

"But you won't." Why was he testing her _now_? She _did_ have a fascinating way of getting angry.... "Do you really think Seska will let this go? There's no way Chakotay would send her off. She'll kill you."

"What are you asking?" B'Elanna leaned back in her chair to get a little further from him.

"Come with me. We can take this shuttle."

" _Steal_ a shuttle?"

Tom straightened and shrugged, "It's not like anyone else can fly this one."

She barked a laugh, remembering that Chakotay, the last one who did, put the shuttle out of commission for two weeks. "I don't have a place to go." It wasn't strictly true. She had family, but no one she wanted to see. Could she go back to the Academy with a good word? B'Elanna stopped her wishful thinking. No one would want her now. She'd marked herself a traitor already.

"That's not true." She refocused on his face. "Your file includes information on a mother and father. Your father's still a Federation diplomat."

B'Elanna shook her head, laughing, "I'm a traitor already. I won't be getting any special treatment."

Tom smiled broadly, suspecting he had only this last hurdle to jump for B'Elanna to convince her, "Sure you will. There's some perks to having an Admiral for a father." Admittedly, he wasn't sure if his father would jump any hurdles for _him_ but maybe he could convince him somehow that this was a good idea.... B'Elanna was a stellar engineer according to her file and his own experience. Her professors at the academy were upset she'd left according to the same file. If his father couldn't help, maybe one of them would vouch for her. He'd find a way.

B'Elanna let out a breath, "Fine. I'll go with you." Tom grinned and loped down to the helm. In the small shuttle it was less of a lope and more of a jump, but he didn't mind. He would get to take B'Elanna with him. He wouldn't have to be a spy anymore. Surely, turning one of the Maquis' very own had to count for something in the eyes of his father and Starfleet.

* * *

The shuttle wasn't at the rendezvous. Chakotay ordered another scan of the area, suggesting to look for debris simultaneously. Seska ran the sweep quickly, working the console in front of her expertly. She knew if anyone could find the shuttle, it was her. But there was nothing on the sensors. No debris. No shuttle. Not even an ion signature.

"They're not here," she informed. In lieu of a response, Chakotay joined Seska at her station, peering at her work with his shoulder brushing hers. She turned to study him as he studied the console. His face held tension as he tapped another modification. "I already tried that." But he continued, disregarding her. Predictably, nothing showed.

"Tabor, see if you can raise the station," Chakotay ordered as he stepped away from Seska's station toward Tabor's.

"Got them, Captain. Want them on screen?"

"Do it." Chakotay turned to the viewscreen to see the elderly Bajoran who ran the station.

" _Where is your crew?_ " The man asked without bothering to introduce himself. Perhaps that was for the best. Even as a Captain of the Maquis, sometimes it was best not to know too much. Made you less of a target, and he was already a pretty target.

"I was hoping you had an answer for me."

" _Not beyond them never arriving._ "

Meaning business, Chakotay strode to his chair and took a seat. "Have you seen more patrols lately?"

The man shook his head. " _No, we haven't had a meet go sideways in a month._ " He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. " _This wasn't us._ "

Chakotay tapped his armrest impatiently. Where would they be? B'Elanna should have gotten his message. She should have known to finish the supply mission.

" _That spy we heard about... Was he on that ship?_ "

"Yes, but so was someone I trust. I put out the order myself. She got it."

" _But she didn't succeed._ "

"Apparently not." He was responsible for B'Elanna. If Tom killed her first, he'd never live it down. "We're on it, Sir," he responded to the expression of frustration on the man's face. Tabor expertly cut the communication.

As soon as the stars returned on the screen, Chakotay stormed off the bridge to bring the stars to the other spy, Tuvok.

* * *

"We should be good to wait for a while here." Tom killed the engines within the dark nebula. Beyond the viewport, clouds of dust swirled due to their entry, illuminated by the shuttle's internal lighting. He pulled back from his chair and looked at B'Elanna, wondering why she hadn't responded. She stared unblinking at the readouts in front of her. "B'Elanna?" No response. "So I've just called Chakotay and let him know where we are and he'll be here to kill me any minute. ...Seriously?"

Tom stood and gripped B'Elanna's shoulder to get her attention. She looked up surprised, "What?"

"You zoned out. What's bothering you?"

She shook her head. No way was she explaining anything to Tom. She already had traitor and double-cross under her belt. She didn't need to add whimpering fool too. "Nothing." She expected him to challenge her, but instead he let go of her shoulder and turned for the back where the drop-down cots would be.

"Okay." His cot made a small ruckus as it fell into position. "Good night."


	3. Resile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) abandon a position or a course of action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo, I know where I wanna go with this! It might end up being longer than the last one but we'll see what happens.

B'Elanna watched Tom settle into his cot for longer than was strictly necessary. Thoughts raced through her mind. Where would she go? Who would she be able to trust?

How long would she be in prison?

She never worried about it before, but it was a constant menace a Maquis agreed to live with should they get caught. Yet, here she was, _willingly_ walking into that. What was wrong with her? It wasn't that she had any fears about prison, just the suspicion that all the alone time wouldn't do her any favors, nor would the close quarters. She'd since gotten better at close quarters after she shipped with Chakotay—actually, maybe after she first tried the roommate "thing" at Academy. In her mind's eye, she saw the pristine green lawns that were only ever so green and pristine come parent's weekend or prospective student visiting season. Funny, how even a college had a mask to hide behind.

"Now you're staring," Tom commented, amused. She was indeed staring, right at his stomach, having lost track of her surroundings when her thoughts decided to distract her. B'Elanna trod to the second cot which was stowed in the adjacent wall that Tom's cot unfolded from.

"I was thinking."

"About me?" He asked with a tone that revealed he knew she wasn't.

B'Elanna shook her head. "Not even close." Her cot clicked into place. She sat on the pre-made bed to take off her long boots and socks, setting them aside under her cot. She actually had no idea if Tom had undressed. If he had, he'd done it when she was zoned out. She stood to turn down the covers and slid under, still dressed; her clothes were comfortable enough. Laying as they chose to lay placed both their heads near each other in the corner that let B'Elanna see her station but not Tom's station.

Tom watched B'Elanna hesitate to get into her cot. He wondered what she hesitated for. Had she lied about what she was thinking? Had she debated losing a few layers? He hadn't undressed himself by much; just the thick statement jacket he wore over his tee. It was his signature "I'm a Maquis" jacket that he paired with every outfit, similar to how B'Elanna always wore those long boots.

"What were you thinking about then?" Tom asked, choosing not to wonder why he was thinking about B'Elanna's clothes.

"Lights to five percent," B'Elanna said as she rolled to face the bulkhead. The cot was too flat so her hip dug far enough to be uncomfortable.

"Hmm, yes, lights are a good thing to think about at a time like this," Tom remarked sarcastically, just to see if it would get him an honest answer. He heard B'Elanna shift again on her cot. She released an annoyed sigh. Tom switched tactics. "The cots kind of suck, huh?" In the near darkness he heard her laugh and tilted his head and eyes toward the sound. He could just make out the soft shadows of her hair, the darkened mass of her breasts erupting from the flattened shape, and her hands: folded and clasped on her belly. There was nothing erotic to the sight. It was simply comforting knowing there was another person living and breathing in the same corner of the vast universe as he was.

"They're terrible," B'Elanna remarked. She tilted her head up to see him, realizing at the last minute that in the darkness, all she would be able to make out would be a thicker than usual cot. The shadow of what must be his head shifted and B'Elanna felt as though they were locking eyes but she couldn't be sure in the dark. Still, it was comforting somehow. Here she was, about to throw out the last year or so of her life and no one knew it except herself and Tom. The vastness of the universe pressed in on her from all sides at that realization. She felt compelled to make that sensation of feeling small dissipate. "I was thinking about what happens when we get to.... Where are you taking us actually?"

"A station not far from here. I'll be able to contact Starfleet there securely."

"Oh."

"But you want to know what happens when we _get back_ get back."

"Yeah."

"There'll probably be a hearing, maybe a trial. I think it will go well for you. You'll probably just get a parole since you decided to switch sides. It'll be okay, B'Elanna."

Until she heard the last sentence, she didn't realize she wanted to hear it. She smiled, "Thanks Tom."

"Of course. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

"Found them, Chakotay!" Seska shouted excitedly.

"Where?" Chakotay asked as he walked around his chair to her station.

She pointed at the gridded map displayed on her main screen. "In that nebula. They're powered down."

"Maybe B'Elanna ran into trouble after all," Chakotay mused aloud. "Tabor!" He shot like an arrow to the communications station. "See if you can get a connection. But, use the low-band. I don't want any unexpected guests listening in."

Seska watched Tabor fiddle with his console. She had an _off_ feeling. "I got them, but," Tabor looked up at Chakotay, "Tom answered." Chakotay swore as he slammed an open palm on the console. Tabor didn't flinch. "Want it on the screen?"

"No, I'll take it here. He'll see less that way." When Chakotay gripped the back of Tabor's chair, Tabor stood out of it, lingering in the background of his station as Chakotay took his seat. Seska stepped to Tabor's station as well. Having done her job of locating them meant she had a right to see what exactly she'd found. Besides, B'Elanna was a friend. She wanted to know.

Chakotay acknowledged her presence before opening the visual link. A groggy looking Tom answered from a half-illuminated shuttle. The sleeper area was nearly pitch black so Seska couldn't tell if B'Elanna was there.

" _Sorry about missing the rendezvous. We had engine trouble._ "

Chakotay mused that maybe B'Elanna never got his message. If there had been engine trouble, there could have been other problems. "Don't worry about it. Is the shuttle functioning? Are you both alright?"

" _Yeah, yeah. We can run by the station no problem now._ "

Chakotay shook his head, "No need. We'll take you in and make sure the shuttle is good before we send you out again."

* * *

When Tom heard the hail, he first noticed that B'Elanna had finally managed to fall asleep: laying on her stomach with her head turned to the open space. He turned the lights of the shuttle near the front to fifty, leaving the rear lights off so as to let B'Elanna sleep.

Tom expected to see Chakotay, but noted that Seska and Tabor were both in the background alone rather than the whole bridge. It struck him as overly cautious; Chakotay wanted a controlled space.

"We're not having any more problems." The engine trouble lie seemed like a good idea at the time. Chakotay seemed cordial enough. "We can make the run."

" _Why are you fighting me on this?_ "

"Not fighting, just trying to get the job done."

" _The job will get done after we check everything out._ "

Tom forced a jovial tone, "Okay, see you then." He closed the link as quickly as humanly possible just before springing from his chair. "B'Elanna!"


	4. Obloquy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (noun) strong public condemnation

Tom was no stranger to fear—that gut twisting, nauseating fear which demanded to be paid attention to. He felt it trying to explain to his father what happened on Caldik Prime. He felt it when discovering he'd loose his flight license, however temporary that would prove to be.

He felt it now as he explained to B'Elanna in as even a tone as he could. She...she looked... He wasn't sure. Whatever she felt she was hiding well from him.

B'Elanna listened to Tom explain in a deceptively calm tone—that's how she knew he was definitely not calm. Her own unease rose as she realized neither of them had a plan. Remembering Chakotay's message, she stood abruptly, forming more plans as she went. She heard Tom follow her, closing his mouth to observe.

"Chakotay sent me that message remember? And you said we had engine troubles." She explained as she purposely corrupted the file by saving it repeatedly in the wrong file formats. By the time she returned it to the original, it was a string of nonsense symbols that no one would be expected to decipher. For good measure, she chose a few other files at random to do the same to. She knew that if they were important, they'd have copies somewhere.

"Tuvok sent me a message too. I deleted it," Tom added.

"Did you completely delete it?"

"No."

B'Elanna rose from her seat to take Tom's empty one. Once there, she navigated to the trash, corrupted the file, and then deleted it permanently.

Tom stood behind B'Elanna, watching her work. Covering their tracks was probably a good sign for him. He could at least look forward to the pleasure of having Chakotay kill him himself. Tom shook out a sigh. "Damn." He crossed his arms for good measure.

"Hmm?" B'Elanna turned around to study Tom, noting how closed off he suddenly was. She wondered what to say. Finding nothing useful, she turned back to the console, looking for ways to corrupt enough of the right files to convince anyone but herself that systems went down with the so-called engine troubles. She'd have liked it if he'd been more specific about that. Then she wouldn't have to wrack her brain so terribly for a kind of failure that Tom wouldn't recognize but that would still cause the complications they needed.

Tom leaned against the bulkhead a moment longer before trying to get B'Elanna's attention again. She could really focus her attention. He supposed though, that was an important skill for an engineer, unlike a pilot where hyperfocus tends to make you miss important obstacles.

"I think we should run again."

B'Elanna shook her head, but didn't otherwise look up from her work. "The logs said it was a close range call. At any close range, by the time we leave and they get here, our ion trail won't have dissipated."

Tom had to admit there was a point to what she was saying but some perpetually annoyed part of him wanted to shove her out of his chair and book it for the nearest station. He reined the impulse in, moving instead to see better what she was doing. Moving to where she was proved pointless. As soon as he got there, she bolted up, grabbed her tools from where they were stored, and began prying open a console near her chair. "Couldn't you mask it somehow?" He asked, still standing near his chair, still watching her work but now from a distance.

She paused to consider him, even setting the tool she had on her folded leg. "I could, but Seska would know they should have found an ion trail."

"So you're saving yourself that's it?" He blurted. In a calmer mood, he might have regretted it, but now he stood by his accusation. She was dismantling their only escape! He had a right to be upset.

B'Elanna let the accusation sink through her skin but no further. In a way, she was saving herself. "Sabotaging the shuttle is almost as risky for me, but it already fits your story." She turned back to the panel and began again to loosen the bolts holding it in place. "Next time you feel like blaming my engines, give a concrete lie."

Tom nodded his head slowly, then turned to his chair as the fear, anger, and disappointment rose to a blinding level. He slumped into his chair, mumbling to the viewscreen, "My fault again huh?" Of course so, he thought. His greatest talent is probably getting in trouble one way or another.

"You're a _spy_ ," B'Elanna pointed out after she strained to hear Tom's previous comment.

"Not by choice."

"So why'd you stay?" B'Elanna pried the panel away and began fusing lines so they looked a bit like an energy surge shot through them. She might not believe it, but everyone else should. The cabin lights flickered on her second pair of wires, leaving only the blue end of her soldering iron to light the panel's interior.

Tom turned around at the flickering lights, curiosity forcing his unease into a corner for the time being. The light in her hand caused B'Elanna's facial features to cast delicate shadows over her face. Her nose and lips stood out, as did the lower two of her ridges, being that they were more pronounced than the rest. He'd never noticed before. "I didn't have another option."

B'Elanna laughed, morphing the shadows as she smiled. " _You_ didn't have another option? What about Tabor? What about me?"

Tom grinned, glad that at least one of their humors were intact. "Neither of you are _spies_."

"That would explain Tabor's peculiar skill of never getting hurt."

Tom laughed, "He is pretty good at that." He spent another thirty minutes watching B'Elanna work in various parts of the shuttle. Her final act was to spread her tools out near the engine access, but she didn't sit there to wait. Instead, she went back to the cots. "Looking for something?" He called to her. Tom didn't catch B'Elanna's answer because the viewscreen behind him chirped. He spun to open the channel, finding himself face-to-face with Seska. She'd never warmed to him, but now he was half worried that looking too long at her would turn him to stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post and yet another cliff-hanger. This was just a good place to end for now. Also I didn't have time to write a whole lot today. Given that, I'm happy with how this chapter turned out.
> 
> I want to warn for tomorrow: there will be some violence. Probably not enough to boost this out of M, but more than the usual read I think.


	5. Expunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) obliterate or remove completely, generally something unwanted or unpleasant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Chapter Specific Tags:  
> \- Lon Suder  
> \- Seska (Star Trek)  
> \- Torture

B'Elanna found it strange that Tom didn't rise to her bait. Why she felt like baiting him, she chose not to investigate too closely. When she peered around the corner of the sleeping area with the recreational padd in hand, she realized why. Set against the backdrop of the nebula on her own screen was Seska. B'Elanna tossed the padd discreetly back on her cot before coming completely into view.

" _B'Elanna! Glad to see you're well,_ " Seska beamed, looking beyond Tom to see her.

"Good to see you too," B'Elanna stepped close enough to Tom to know he was glad she'd come out when she had. "Did you get a chance to ask Chakotay why he wanted us back?" Tom's knuckles were white where they gripped his chair. Lucky for him that those weren't in Seska's line of sight.

Seska shook her head, still smiling. " _What?_ " She tipped her head sideways as she continued, " _You don't want to see us?_ "

Tom's stomach lurched at Seska's banter. Come to think of it, he had no idea who discovered he and Tuvok were spies. He'd assumed it was Chakotay, but Seska seemed to be playing at something.

"We wanted to finish our job before is all," Tom answered, feeling like he needed to get back into the conversation to avoid going crazy theorizing.

" _And you will._ " Seska pointed her gaze at him. " _You said the engine troubles were gone. Think you can slip out of that nebula to make our lives easier?_ " As much as he wanted to make their lives harder, he trusted B'Elanna's opinion of their chances to escape. Tom twisted his chair to slide down the navigation controls, forcing the controls for the screen into the upper corner. Seska's window moved to the corner of the viewscreen at about life-size scale. Tom heard B'Elanna shift behind him.

"I can get us out." He looked back at B'Elanna, asking silently if there was really no better way. "Ready?"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly as she took her seat to answer the silent question. Aloud she said, "I'm ready."

" _We'll see you soon._ "

* * *

Seska closed the communication link with Tom and B'Elanna. She had her answers, or enough of them anyway. If B'Elanna got the message, she was helping Tom. If she hadn't got the message, well, Seska would find out soon where she stood. She went to Ayala and told him quietly that she'd go to the docking port to meet the shuttle.

By the time she got there, Suder had already taken position near the entrance airlock. She grinned ferally. For all his silence, he was a remarkably violence-inclined man. He'd do very nicely for apprehending Tom. Though, she supposed, she should let Chakotay know Tom and B'Elanna were due soon.

The locking mechanisms began to whirr. Without regret, she dismissed the idea of finding Chakotay. He'll realize soon enough once she and Suder apprehended Tom. After the locking mechanisms silenced, the airlock door handle flipped. Seska noted Suder perked up and found herself doing the same. The door swung toward her, revealing B'Elanna.

Seska stepped closer, wishing to be nearby should B'Elanna fight them for Tom. Tom came into view, lingering behind B'Elanna perhaps a moment too long. He met her gaze and Seska realized he knew he was walking into a trap. Why he chose to when he'd been in a shuttle—free—just a moment ago, evaded her understanding.

"We get a welcoming committee. Cool." Tom gave a cursory glance to the both of them, lingering for a moment on Suder. Suder looked collected physically, but Seska had been around him long enough to know his eyes would have an odd shine.

Seska squeezed B'Elanna's shoulder, as she pulled her into a restraint disguised as a hug, she spoke over her shoulder softly, "Now." On the word, Suder sprung as if his whole body was one long spring.

Tom backed up instinctively when from the corner of his eye he caught Suder's movement. There was really no where to go and it disappointed himself that he would have such a fruitless reaction to Suder lunging at him. In an instant, Suder had his hands held tightly behind his back, straining his shoulders and elbows to the point of sharp pains like hot wires pulling from his shoulders down through his hands.

B'Elanna realized Seska's plan as soon as she put her hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see Tom grimace when Suder pulled his arms back and pushed them up unnaturally. She didn't think he'd broken anything, but the look in Suder's eyes only said that he hadn't broken anything _yet_. Seska released her when she made no move to free Tom. Suder shoved him forward. Tom, looking miserable, but resigned, stumbled the first few steps before getting the hang of walking with his hands behind his back. B'Elanna followed him with her eyes until she couldn't.

"What was that for?" B'Elanna asked, pretending to be ignorant.

"He and Tuvok are spies."

"Really? How did we find out?" They began walking. B'Elanna let Seska take the lead gently, not wanting to reveal anything about herself and her opinion regarding Tom. She believed him when he said that he didn't give Starfleet any useful information. That he's pilot would give him access to a lot of incriminating information. If he had given them anything good, she wouldn't still be here.

"I intercepted a message addressed to Tuvok. It looked innocent at first, but then I noticed a pattern."

"Code?"

"Definitely." Seska stepped into the supply room, turning back to see if B'Elanna would follow. B'Elanna hesitated, not knowing what she'd see inside. She realized suddenly that Suder could have killed Tom, but the shout of pain and insistence—in Tom's voice—that he didn't know anything else resolved that discomfort. Discomfort? She knew there was a better word for it—started with an 'f'—but she wasn't about to acknowledge it now with Seska watching her. B'Elanna stepped into the room.

She saw Suder staring down an already bloodied Tom. Tom's nose had started bleeding. He had a bruise on his left cheekbone and a small gash on the other. B'Elanna noticed Suder's hand when he rose it again, pressing the knife in it to Tom's bicep. The jacket he'd walked off the shuttle with was gone. B'Elanna didn't look for it; she couldn't look away. Tom strained to shift from the knife but he couldn't go far, tied down to the deck as he was by the long ropes around his wrists. Suder pressed the knife slowly, seeming to marvel at the rivulets of blood that began to stain Tom's sleeve before curving down and around his arm. Suder stepped to the back of Tom, keeping his knife where it was and yanked his head up.

"Suder," Seska intoned. The tension in B'Elanna's body relaxed momentarily when Suder loosened his grip on Tom's hair and placed some distance between the knife and Tom's arm.

Although Tom was looking in the general direction of the door, he noticed for the first time that Seska and B'Elanna were there. B'Elanna looked pale. Seska looked pleased. Suder? He didn't want to know what Suder looked like. He learned early on to avoid the malfunctioning betazoid. _This_ confirmed his suspicions.

Seska jerked her head to B'Elanna, drawing Tom's gaze. "Give B'Elanna the knife."


	6. Pinnacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (noun) the most successful or admired part of a system or achievement

B'Elanna eyed the knife Tabor offered to her by the handle. She looked past him at Tom, wishing she could admit that he was right: Seska didn't trust her, wouldn't trust her until she proved herself trustworthy. Tom seemed resigned. She hoped he hadn't given up already, and then dismissed the thought. What did she care? She was here, as safe as she'd been two hours ago. No one knew she'd agreed to go with Tom. Seska doesn't trust half the things she should trust. The rest of the crew won't think ill of her.

Was it wrong of her to be disappointed to have lost the second chance Tom offered?

B'Elanna took the knife and approached Tom. She didn't know where to go with it. This was completely new territory. If she wielded a knife, she'd wield it to kill someone, not to torture. Torture is Suder's specialty. Perhaps the worst thing was that Tom didn't back away from her. She wanted to shake sense into him. She had a _knife_! Does he think she doesn't know how to use one?

"What did he tell you?" Seska asked.

"Nothing we didn't already know," Suder replied.

B'Elanna stepped behind Tom, who followed her until he couldn't. He seemed to be holding his breath. B'Elanna suggested, "Could be all there is to know." Now she saw Seska shake her head.

"Doubt it. Spies must have training to resist torture techniques." She gestured. "Don't keep us waiting. Make him talk." B'Elanna looked down at Tom. It was strange how much she wanted not to hurt him. If anything, this was just a long time coming. If he hadn't talked her down in the shuttle, he'd be dead by now. He never had the upper hand; not then and not now. His hands twisted in their restraints, drawing B'Elanna's attention.

She had a knife. B'Elanna shot a glance upward to see if Seska or Suder suddenly realized anything off about her behavior. Then she knelt behind Tom, growling for show, but then whispering, "Take me with you." Her left hand pulled the restraint taut from the floor by a few centimeters. Then she swiped the knife through the restraint, freeing Tom's hands. Tom, whether out of shock or actually for a reason, remained still. B'Elanna circled around him. Once her back faced Seska and Suder, she mouthed, "Take the knife." Tom nodded, giving her a rush of pride that her two-second plan might actually work.

B'Elanna pressed the tip of the knife to Tom's sternum only just hard enough to look like she'd made an effort. She twisted it with a snarl, "What haven't you told us?"

Tom took the opportunity to grasp the knife from B'Elanna's hand, breaking her hold, though he didn't think he could if she wasn't actively helping him escape. "Just that I can untie knots with one hand." B'Elanna made such a good show of being shocked that he almost thought the whole escape was his own idea. Suder stepped forward, but Tom pulled B'Elanna and the knife at her throat tighter. "I'll kill her. Don't come closer." He mused that this might count for payback.

B'Elanna struggled just enough to make it look like his job holding her was difficult. When she twisted one way to free herself, Tom tilted the blade edge up, nicking her in the process. She froze. He wondered if she actually thought she was in danger. Tom carefully relaxed the pressure on her neck to assure her that she wasn't in danger.

"B'Elanna can take care of herself, Sudor. Leave them be," Seska said, even stepping aside. Tom eyed her, wondering when she'd strike, but even as he slipped past her, keeping B'Elanna between the two of them, she didn't attack.

B'Elanna waited for Seska to turn the tables on them. She smirked. "I hope he kills you," she commented as Tom led her into the corridor.

"Go!" B'Elanna pealed herself from Tom, breaking into a sprint for the shuttle dock. She heard Tom break into a run behind her. He caught up to her, keeping pace until he outpaced her at the shuttle.

Tom opened the hatch of the shuttle they'd been in, hurrying B'Elanna inside. When he walked in, he nearly stumbled over B'Elanna. "Tuvok? I thought Chakotay killed you."

"The simple fact that I am standing here would render that hypothesis incorrect." Tuvok made to move B'Elanna out of the shuttle, but Tom stopped him.

"I agree that she should be moved, but lets put her on one of the cots."

"I disagree with keeping her around. She may be enlisted by Chakotay to lead them to us in the event of our escape."

"She helped me escape."

"That does not rule out her possibly working with her Captain to capture us at a more convenient time."

"You might be the senior officer here, but I'm not flying this shuttle without her." Tom closed the airlock, locking it to be safe. They only had a small window before Seska or Suder realized his restraints had been cut.

"I cannot fly this shuttle. Alright."

"Now help me put her on a cot." Tom rolled her onto her back before lifting her. His stomach dropped out upon seeing her, loosing track of the situation now that he could look at her unchargined. Tuvok stepped into the back, dropping the cot Tom had used the night prior so Tom could lay B'Elanna on it. As soon as the cot was down, Tuvok left the sleeper area. Tom lay B'Elanna down, careful to make sure she wouldn't fall off easily.

After requesting dimmer lights in the sleeper area, Tom noticed Tuvok sitting at the auxiliary station where B'Elanna had used earlier. Irrationally, a surge of anger jolted through him. He clenched his jaw and continued on though, taking his seat at the helm. After a moment, they were free of the docking clamps.

"Huh, no one's trying to phaser us."

"That would be expected, yes. However, I disabled the phaser controls before making my escape."

"Really?" Tom commented, looking for a conversation partner but finding that Tuvok, as always, wasn't in the mood. He glanced back at the still unconscious B'Elanna.

"The _V'lekor_ will be in range soon."


	7. Gustatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (adjective) concerned with tasting or the sense of taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking there are three or four? (maybe five?) more chapters to this one. Sorry, I didn't get anything out yesterday. Seems everyone I was relying on was out sick and I had a shit ton to do. Thanks for sticking with me for so long!

Waking came slowly for B'Elanna. First there was the metallic taste in her mouth. Her mouth was also dry, like she hadn't had water in several hours. If she didn't know better, she might think she hadn't had water in several days, though she knew that couldn't be the case. She was still alive wasn't she? She didn't quite feel that way though. B'Elanna hadn't managed to open her eyes yet because they felt heavy still. Her limbs felt dull, like they weren't hers and she wondered if some of them had fallen asleep. When she tried shifting to a more comfortable position, she couldn't quite figure out where her left arm was. It didn't seem to be attached to her body. Without opening her eyes, she slid her right hand over her head where her shoulder suggested her left arm might be and encountered a weight that felt oddly hand-like. She drew it up and lowered it to her belly. When she squeezed it, she felt the muscle protest. She released it. The sensation of blood rushing back proved to her that this was her hand, albeit numb and useless.

What did she remember? She had Tom following her to the shuttle. He opened the door for her—sweet of him. No, she dismissed the notion. It was just nice, and probably what he thought he was expected to do. She didn't think twice of stepping inside. Tuvok was there and B'Elanna wondered why he hadn't tried getting Tom himself. She suspected dislike or distrust between the two, but she couldn't confirm that now while waiting for her hand to return to normal. It tingled almost painfully now, like a thousand hyposprays all over her arm stabbed her repeatedly. She ignored the pain by again thinking back to the shuttle. Tuvok crossed the shuttle quickly. It never crossed her mind to defend herself. She was helping Tom escape after all. Now, though, she realized Tuvok couldn't have known. B'Elanna opened her eyes as the sensation of pain dissipated.

Gray-white ceiling. Gray-white bulkhead. No cutout from which the cot would drop from. She wasn't on the shuttle anymore. Where was she? She looked around her, realizing that she was in a cell and Tom was on the other side. At least no one put her in a prison jumpsuit. B'Elanna pushed herself up to a sitting position, sliding her legs from under the rough blanket where her feet could reach the floor. Someone had removed her boots. Whoever they were, she silently thanked them for keeping her socks on her. The steel floor looked cold. In fact, it did seep a little into the balls of her feet, muted by the thick socks she wore.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Waiting for you to wake up. Do you want water?" Tom leaned back in his chair to look back at what she suspected would be the guard's station.

"Yes. Where are we?"

"The _V'lekor_." The stern Vulcan who approached the force field looked like she had much better things to do than bring a prisoner water. She was a prisoner. The thought hadn't occurred until now despite seeing her surroundings. How could she have been so stupid to trust Tom? What had her mother always said? Humans know how to sweet talk better than they know how to fight; expect them to talk sweet.

The Vulcan waited there a moment before B'Elanna realized she was expected to approach the force field. She threw the blanket off her lap and stepped up to the edge of her containment. The lights outside were brighter than inside and she squinted a little to avoid the sudden exposure. A cup-sized hole appeared in front of her, through which the Vulcan handed her the mug of water. As soon as the mug was clear, the hole stitched itself closed. B'Elanna drank greedily from the mug. Upon finishing the water, she realized just how thirsty she was. She could do with more, but the Vulcan, despite being shorter than her, seemed to take up more space than her and Tom combined. She was too weak yet to win a fight, verbal or otherwise, so she merely handed the mug back through the reopened hole once she finished.

"What are we doing on the _V'lekor_?" B'Elanna asked as the Vulcan stepped away.

"Tuvok called them. Or I think he called Starfleet and they sent the _V'lekor_?" Tom shook his head. "I don't know. Didn't bother asking. He called for help; help arrived."

She stalked up the force field until she was directly in front of Tom. "And the Maquis is safe in her little cell?"

He held his hands to the side, opening himself for an attack if the force field hadn't been there. "Hey, it's a pretty big cell."

She scoffed, offended that he should try placating her with knowledge he couldn't possibly have. "You're the expert on cells now?" She stalked back to her cot, looking for her boots and finding them under the bed. It struck her as entertaining that they should be in a place she'd put them if she had the choice to.

"I spent some time in one waiting for my arraignment."

That surprised her and it carried into her voice as she took a seat on her cot to shove her boots on. "Arraignment?"

Tom shrugged, "My cover, remember? It wasn't completely made up. Dad made bail but I spent a night there."

"Should you even be talking to me?" It struck her odd that the Vulcan didn't chase Tom away now that she was awake and he was likely giving up sensitive information. Not that she hadn't known he was a spy before now, but the Vulcan probably didn't know how much she knew.

"Admiral's kid means I can do what I want, most of the time."

"You want to talk to a prisoner?" She dropped her second booted foot to the floor, making a dull thud.

Tom leaned forward in his chair as B'Elanna leaned back on the cot. "I wanted to talk to you actually." B'Elanna looked away first, adjusting the blanket on her right to better cover the bed. The material was rough,so much so as to be soothing to touch. She couldn't quite put a name to this discomfort so she left it at that: discomfort. She felt vulnerable despite being behind a force field. She didn't so much want to talk to Tom, but she equally didn't want to be left to her own thoughts. Regardless of how large her cell was compared to others, she knew she'd go crazy trying to come up with ways to entertain herself.

"What for?" She asked, speaking toward the blanket.


	8. Debonair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (adjective) confident, stylish, and charming, generally used for men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm trying out a new (to me) style with this one? If you have opinions, feel free to share.

Tom just wanted to help. That was all this was; that was all it could and should be. So why then did he find himself spending longer this morning picking something to wear? He put everything back in the closet except for the change of boxers, a pair of light blue jeans, a plain dark tee, and his favorite vest. Changing quickly, he mused that a uniform made dressing easier, but ultimately less entertaining. A look in the mirror suggested he should comb his hair too.

 _"What for?"_ The memory came back unprompted now. In fact, it was at least the fourth time he'd recalled the memory in half as many days. _"Is it a crime to want to help someone?"_ What a clever response, he remembered thinking at the time. He even thought it worked to ease the fascinating and deceptively fierce engineer on the other side of the force field. That was until she looked up from the blanket, frowning. _"It usually is when that someone is Maquis. I don't need your help. Go away."_ Shocked, it took him a while to stand and leave.

What he was doing now, that couldn't be considered help right? He was just righting a wrong, wasn't he? He convinced himself that much before going to speak with the professors earlier in the month. Now all he had to do was convince himself again, and B'Elanna of the same thing. Turns out, his father wasn't keen on helping any Maquis, even if that Maquis came with high praise from his only son. Tom sighed and set down his comb before he over-brushed. Since returning, his father had deliberately avoided him, but Tom wasn't sure why. Shaking his head, Tom crossed his bedroom to pick up the padd that held the information on where B'Elanna's women's center was. He set the padd down after reading the first few lines and realizing this wasn't the one he was after, but the one in which he'd started the letter to the parole board. That would have to wait until he talked to B'Elanna. Looking around the room, he spotted the other most-likely padd and crossed the room to scoop it up. Address in hand, he left.

"What do you mean she's not here?" Tom asked, growing agitated. If she didn't want to talk to him, she didn't have to pretend not to be around. The receptionist looked at him unfazed.

"She's. Not. Here." He remarked coldly. "Before you ask," Tom had opened his mouth to do so, "No, I don't know where she is. She left all of a sudden."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago."

Frustrated, Tom turned around to leave. He couldn't even send her the good news if the center had no address for her. He'd have thought they'd keep that kind of information, but if she left suddenly, then maybe they hadn't any hand in it. What would he do now?

B'Elanna slammed her door shut behind her. She hated her neighbors. She hated her apartment. She hated that she let herself get into this mess. A year's parole!? Pah! She had better things to do with her life, not that any of it mattered when she couldn't track down a stupid job. Dumping the folder of resumes on the coffee table in what served as her living room and her bedroom eased her annoyance at the world. At least the pile made a satisfying _thud_ when it hit the table. She backtracked to the kitchen, pausing to shed her boots on alternating steps. Once at the kitchen she perused her counter for a mostly clean mug and then decided the dishes had piled long enough. Working out the various lipstick stains and food scraps helped her focus her mind. Having anything to do would do that for her, and this at least, wasn't something she couldn't do with the "parolee" target on her back. Not even the Maquis would want to take her back now.

B'Elanna squeezed another small circle onto the dishrag. The soap was getting low. B'Elanna sighed. The soap wasn't the only thing getting low. She had another rent due in a week and barely enough in her savings to cover it. She needed a job and soon. Thoughts drifted to where she might get help, now that she was nearly out of options to pursue on her own. The one good thing the center had been good for in her mind was the communication-enabled padd. She could use it to call just about anyone, though she managed to scrounge up very few contacts. As a blue mug passed into her hands, she recalled that one of those contacts was Tom Paris and she nearly dropped the mug. He pulled her out of the Maquis at a time when she likely would have been killed. The image of Seska's distrustful face reminded B'Elanna just how close she'd been to being taken care of. There was no guarantee that Tom would help her now, but she did hear that he put a good word in for her at her hearing. She might actually have him to thank for the leniency of a parole—B'Elanna dropped the knife into the water after the sharp bite told her she'd gripped the wrong end too hard—not that parole was helping her much now.

Shutting off the water with one hand, B'Elanna stepped back from the sink to head for the bathroom and her home medical kit. It didn't take long to close the cut, but it was long enough for her to wonder what she might say to Tom if she called him. She figured the truth would be best, but which version? She hated everything about her situation or she needed a job soon? Or some combination of the two? Leaving the bathroom, B'Elanna settled on her bed, the only suitable sitting surface in the tiny studio apartment. She carefully slid the padd out from under the folder of resumes. Leaning against the wall, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Tom. She hesitated about the call type, but ultimately decided on video. It would be easier to judge his opinion if she had a face to look at. As the ringtone dialed, she hoped quietly that he might look happy to see her. It would be a welcome change of pace.


	9. Benign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (adjective) gentle and kind

After the third unanswered ring, B'Elanna hung up, having come to her senses. Frustrated she would even _think_ he might want to help her more than he already has _if_ he had, she rose out of her bed. Remembering she had a few dishes left to do and that she was still thirsty, B'Elanna went back to the kitchen sink, careful not to cut herself again and restart the whole introspection cycle. With the focus she paid to the last remaining dishes, she almost didn't recognize the call ringtone. It had a happy melody that she assumed came with the device since she never recalled picking one. After shutting off the water and turning around, she could almost see the notes drift her way as though they were physical objects, almost like bubbles or birds, instead of merely sounds. The tune restarted as she wiped her hands on a nearby towel. Setting the towel aside, B'Elanna walked back to the bed and peered at the padd's screen, turning her head sideways slightly to read.

It was different now that he called. She could answer him and claim having called him accidentally. She didn't really like the lie, but it settled better than admitting to needing help after having just decided he couldn't help her. Before the call left, she sat down and answered.

Tom looked worried for only a moment, but then he grinned widely. B'Elanna found herself fighting a smile. "It was you," he pointed out. "You showed up on my computer with no name. I was just looking for you at the center."

"They were getting on my nerves there," she commented cooly.

Tom leaned a little closer as if he aimed to step out of the padd himself, "Where are you staying?"

B'Elanna shrugged, "I think my quarters on the _Val Jean_ were larger than this." Tom laughed. B'Elanna's smile broke out at the sound.

"Guess I owe you an apology for making you leave?"

B'Elanna surprised herself by shaking her head. "No. It's—" She'd been about to say, "It's alright," but really it wasn't. She had no job still. Her rent was due soon and she needed dish soap. "Why were you looking for me?" She changed the subject before Tom could catch her slip.

"I got some good news for you." He didn't proceed.

"...Are you waiting for an introduction?"

"Nothing like that. You're sitting right?" B'Elanna nodded. "I got you a provisional spot at the Academy." Tom finished with a wide grin. It dropped slightly as he seemed not to get the reaction out of her that he wanted.

"What does that mean?"

"You can finish your degree. Start as a second semester sophomore; do five semesters and finish."

She didn't know what she expected the good news to be. A revoke of her parole would have been helpful. She couldn't see how school would help her any. She needed a job. "That's...good."

"You don't sound convinced. Or even excited."

"School's the last thing on my mind. I still haven't found a job," she blurted.

"The center would have helped you."

B'Elanna frowned. Calling and then answering him weren't so helpful now. "They're overworked. They hardly talked with me at all."

"Oh. What if I helped you?"

"You don't need to."

"No. But I want to."

B'Elanna silently sized Tom up over the small screen. She wasn't sure what to make of him still. He admitted to killing people, then let himself be used for bait by Starfleet essentially. Was he still working for them?

"Let me at least take you for coffee. You look like you need a friend."

She wanted to ask what about her gave him that impression, but she found herself nodding her head, "Alright."

"What's close to you?"

"Pete's Bakery is nearby," and they smell delicious every time she walks past. But the prices are a bit higher than she'd like for a quick snack and she's never been inside.

"I know where that is. I'll meet you there in thirty."

"Now?"

"Sure, why not?" Tom paused, seeming to realize something. "Unless you have plans?"

"No, no plans," she answered quickly. Tom smiled at her.

"See you in thirty minutes. Bye."

"Bye." The screen blackened, leaving B'Elanna feeling eerily alone.

At Pete's, she discovered that Tom wasn't in Starfleet anymore. He had a job at a publishing company of all places. She'd never expected that from him and they had a long conversation about how she found it bizarre. Then, they talked about her job troubles. The waiter behind the counter overheard and suggested she work with them. Even after B'Elanna explained in a hushed voice that she was on parole, the waiter continued to insist. Apparently two other employees were parolees. B'Elanna agreed to come by in the morning.

When they left, it was late; late enough for the odd star to outshine the streetlights and the moon sliver to graze over the trees. In the chilly air, B'Elanna found herself fighting not to gravitate toward Tom. Even from a healthy distance away, she could feel heat radiate off him. B'Elanna crossed her arms, tucking her hands in close to her body as they continued walking. The only noise being their breaths and footsteps.

"Cold?" Tom asked.

B'Elanna shrugged, half to answer him, and half to disguise the shiver than ran down her back. "We're not far from my apartment." Tom hadn't worn a jacket when he came by, only a ridiculous vest that made her laugh inwardly (but only inwardly seeing as he had offered to take her for coffee). If he had a jacket, she thought he'd give it to her whether or not she asked. Without it, there wasn't much else either of them could do.

At least, that's what she thought until Tom stepped close enough to wrap his arm around her back at her waist. They'd already matched footsteps as soon as they stepped out of the bakery together, so the change in either of their rhythms was slight if there was any. B'Elanna didn't notice a change.


	10. Machinate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) engage in plots, scheme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter notes for spoiler tags.

An arm around her waist felt more natural than breathing. Tom looked down at B'Elanna, observing how the shadows fell on her face. He didn't know just how or when it happened, but it was there. The happy warmth he'd felt once at seventeen now seemed pale compared to how he felt looking down at her. They were walking in-step like they did it all the time and he couldn't help but think it was a signal put there by the universe. As the warmth washed over him, another feeling—a pit, deep and unending, revealed itself. He had a bad feeling. B'Elanna looked up at Tom. Feeling caught off-guard, Tom took his hand from her waist. He didn't want to get his own hopes up. She had no reason to like him. Sure, he helped her before, but she wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't stationed on her ship in the first place. He wasn't even sure he believed his own emotions. They were just shy of turbulent. And he—

B'Elanna bumped into him, getting his attention, "Did I say you could take that back?" She pointed at his arm.

"You looked like you were about to," he ventured, not yet willing to explain.

"No, I was wondering why you got so quiet," she explained. Tom didn't answer beyond putting his arm around her. Revealing what had made him draw back warred with the need to protect himself. He didn't want to lose this new friendship. Earth is a big place. Even on parole, she could disappear from him if he misstepped.

"No reason. Any plans later?" He changed the subject.

B'Elanna led the turn up a stoop that he assumed was for her apartment. "I don't have any plans except starting work tomorrow." Tom watched B'Elanna find her keys. Once she found them, she didn't immediately push them into the lock. Instead she turned around. "Thank you for that."

Tom shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I just got you out of the house. I didn't really do anything."

"Still." She smiled. "It was nice having coffee." They observed each other for a moment. It sure sounded like a post-date line to Tom, but he hadn't let on that he wished this were a date. As far as he knew, she still thought this was a friend being nice to a friend.

"Didn't you say it was cold out here?" He prompted her.

She looked down as she turned for the door, unlocking it. "I did." She stood in the doorway, giving herself another six inches in height. "I'll see you another time?"

"Next time you feel like coffee, let me know."

"Just coffee?" she teased.

"Or whatever."

"Okay."

"Okay."

B'Elanna closed the door slowly, leaving Tom alone on the stoop. He finally gave into the urge to run his hand through his hair, sighing. "Damn," he muttered to himself. Normally, he didn't have any problem making his intentions known. Then again, normally, feelings like these didn't sneak up on him.

He turned around, looking down the stoop and the tree-lined street in either direction. He felt mildly amused by himself, as well as disconcerted by the speed at which B'Elanna grew on him. His laugh came out muffled by the cloth over his head. What was it? A bag? What was that smell? He dimly recognized it as chloroform before losing consciousness.

* * *

B'Elanna closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway toward her apartment. She still felt the phantom warmth of Tom's arm around her waist and even as it faded another warmth grew out of it. What a strange feeling. She felt like she could float up the stairs to her apartment on it. B'Elanna had to admit, she was hoping Tom might kiss her. She should have just kissed him herself. She got as far as her door before she turned back around. Yes, that was it. She'll kiss him now. He couldn't have gotten far.

B'Elanna opened the front door and stepped onto the stoop, looking for Tom. She saw a few children playing down the way, but no Tom. Had he been so anxious to leave that he sprinted away? She laughed aloud. That was absurd. He would have left her at the bakery door if he was sick of her. Slightly disappointed that she hadn't come to her senses quickly enough, she went back inside.

The light in her bathroom was on when she walked inside. Funny, she didn't remember leaving it on. After taking off her shoes, she walked over to investigate and froze when she caught glimpse of a person inside. B'Elanna backed away quickly before she could be spotted. Was she being robbed? She didn't have anything valuable, much less in her bathroom. B'Elanna tip-toed towards the kitchen to retrieve a.... She remembered the knife she'd cut herself on earlier. She'd put it away in the creaky drawer. Regardless, that would be her best weapon. She carefully opened the drawer, wincing when the drawer made its initial squeak.

"Stop."

B'Elanna hadn't opened the drawer entirely. She couldn't reach the knife. She needed it now that she knew who'd broken into her home. She lifted her hands slowly above her head and began to turn around. "Whatever you think you need to do, you don't need to."

"Put your hands down; I'm not here to kill you."

B'Elanna hesitated. "The last thing you told me was to wish Tom killed me." Seska didn't appear armed, so B'Elanna lowered her hands. Seska grinned.

"That was before we tracked down his next of kin. Did you know his father is a Starfleet Admiral?" Seska looked absolutely thrilled.

"I knew that. But Tom isn't in Starfleet anymore."

"He didn't leave that long ago." Seska crossed the room and took up a spot on her bed. B'Elanna wondered if she should arm herself anyway. "It doesn't matter. We don't need him for him. We need him for his father."

"Who's we?" B'Elanna decided to stay in the kitchen where she could quickly arm herself if she needed to. The rack holding her lone pot was to her left. She could grab it if she didn't have the time for the knife.

"Almost everyone." She sent B'Elanna a piercing gaze, "Not Chakotay though."

"Why?" She couldn't help herself.

Seska waved her hand dismissively, "This big deal captain closed in on us after the three of you left. Chakotay ordered everyone into life rafts. By some luck they didn't go after us. Guess all they wanted was Chakotay."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We're getting him back with Tom and the Admiral." Seska stood. "I just wanted to see how you had it. Sure you don't want to come with me?" She looked around the studio in disgust.

"No." B'Elanna wanted to see Tom again. That seemed to outweigh any desire to return to the Maquis. Besides, "I'm monitored." B'Elanna lifted the leg of her pants up to reveal the ankle ring, "I wouldn't do you any good."

Seska stood to leave. "Next time then."

"What is Tom getting out of helping you?" B'Elanna asked as Seska passed the kitchen. If he was willing to help them, then maybe she could find a way too. Seska looked over her shoulder, beginning to turn the door knob.

"He's not. At least, not by choice." Seska opened the door. "I should go. Have fun with the parole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Chapter Specific Tags:  
> \- Kidnapping/Abduction


	11. Acumen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (noun) the ability to make good judgements and quick decisions

B'Elanna digested what Seska said quickly. Before her former best friend could leave, B'Elanna stopped her at the door, putting a hand on the door to close it. "What do you mean he's not helping?"

Seska stepped back from the door, regarding B'Elanna as though she were seeing her for the first time. She laughed, crossing her arms. "Don't tell me you actually care?"

"I don't," B'Elanna insisted.

"You don't?" Seska questioned, sounding more amused than she looked.

B'Elanna surprised herself by explaining, "He's been helping me here. I want to know if I can trust him any more." It was clever and not much of a lie.

Seska looked like she wanted to think about it, but eventually she said, "We're using him for ransom. To get Chakotay out." Seska drew her arms from her body and shoved B'Elanna against the wall, keeping her there with the knife she must have kept hidden until now. "I know I said I wouldn't kill you, but I can easily change my mind if you keep me from my mission."

"Do whatever you want, Seska. We stopped being friends a long time ago."

Seska's arm across her chest pressed harder, but B'Elanna refused to show any sign of discomfort. The shortened hallway they were in was small. She could probably take the knife away but not without alerting her neighbors. It was one thing when she thought there was a stranger in her home. If she got caught threatening someone from her past, she'd probably get another year or worse.

"Oh, I know." Seska pulled the knife away and lessened the pressure on her chest. "And now you know that I spared your life. Twice." She opened the door without stowing the knife, but kept it out of view of the door. Once she was gone, B'Elanna let herself lean against the wall heavily. She couldn't just let Seska and the others keep Tom. Chakotay always was the most level-headed. Her body chilled. Tom could already be dead. She shook the image of him bloody from her mind's eye. She'd seen something like it once before, so it lingered persistently. They needed him for ransom. They couldn't kill him, but they could hurt him terribly. B'Elanna slipped back into shoes quickly and left to follow Seska.

* * *

"Odd."

"Sir?"

Admiral Owen Paris pressed the button to restart the access to his voicemail. "This unlisted number got through to my desk." His assistant, Peter, quickly looked over his own version of the Admiral's voicemail box. On occasion he was asked to take messages but he hadn't gotten to it today.

"I can have the number blocked."

"Not before I hear the message. Thank you." Restarting the access to his voicemail didn't make the number's information appear. He set it to play. When it started, he thought it was a prank, but the pained yelp in the undeniable voice of his son made him realize otherwise. "I need security and public safety here, _now_."

"On it, Admiral." Peter used the second line to call the departments requested.

Owen replayed the message. His protective side balked at having to listen to the message again, but it was the responsibility of his rank to gather the most useful information. He might hear something to help locate Tom. Distancing himself by trying to think of the pained yelp as someone else hardly helped, but it did let him catch the sound of a subway train, just after the third of Tom's protests. The Maquis were playing dirty now. He knew the sole retrieval of Captain Chakotay would cost them.

In a four hour flurry, arrangements were made, the location was finalized, and Owen felt nervous for the next step. Beyond the voicemail—odd for a ransom he thought—he'd heard nothing more from the Maquis who had Tom. He hadn't bothered calling home, not wanting to worry Hanna. They will find Tom and get him the help he needed. Everything will be fine. He had to believe it to make the right decisions now. Granted, he wasn't leading the retrieval; he was too close.

There was a knock on his open door. "Admiral?"

"I'm assuming you have news, Peter." He needed him to have news. Good, preferably. Owen leaned forward in his desk, trying to hide the fact that his hands had started to shake. They hadn't done that since the Academy. Everything will be fine.

Peter smiled. "I figured you'd want to see your son. They have him. He's been taken to Mercy General." Owen bolted out of his chair as quickly as he could without looking like he had. Bolting wasn't something an Admiral would do. Neither was sulking, which is why he stayed in his office going over mind-dulling paperwork just to distract himself.

"Is he well?"

"I know he's alive. I don't know anything else. Sorry, Sir."

Owen nodded as he passed his assistant, "Thank you, Peter. I'll see to it that you're awarded overtime."

"Don't worry about it now, Admiral."

The hospital wasn't far. Owen could walk it, but he didn't want to show up tired. Instead he called a taxi. Again, he could have asked for an escort but he wasn't willing to talk to someone he might know just yet. Silence in the back of a stranger's car would do him some good.

The receptionist gave him a kind smile and directed him to Tom's room. He had the blanket pulled to his stomach and various monitors around him, the contents of which Owen didn't have the patience to look at.

"What are you doing here?" Owen demanded when he spotted the half-Klingon. He recognized her from her arrest record. She was Maquis. Although Owen saw no needle nor any knives, she could still do considerable harm with a pillow. He stepped up to his sleeping son's side.

* * *

B'Elanna didn't bother standing. She earned her right to be here and turned her face just far enough for Owen to see the bruises. She hadn't allowed anyone to heal her until she knew Tom would be safe. "I'm keeping an eye on him. Tell your team thanks for the lift," she added sarcastically.

" _You_ got him out?"

"Does that surprise you? A Maquis helping an Admiral's son?" She asked indignantly.

"Why?"

"I owed him." It was part of the truth. The rest was still too new for her to understand fully.

"Then you'll be going now."

"No. I'm staying." That much she knew. She'd stay until he woke up at least. She needed to know he was alright.

"I don't know who you are, miss..."

"Dad," Tom coughed, but when B'Elanna looked his eyes were still closed. They opened a moment after.

"Tom?" The admiral turned to face Tom.

"I want her to stay."

B'Elanna leaned a little closer to whisper for Tom's ears only, "I actually have to go. I have a curfew on parole."

Tom nodded, turning his head to whisper back. "I'll make sure they know you helped."

"Thanks," B'Elanna replied. She kissed his cheek, remembering her pact with herself to kiss him.

Tom hummed. "Easy, not in front of the 'rents."

B'Elanna laughed softly as she pulled away. "I'll see you tomorrow." As she left, she threw a look over her shoulder at Tom. He seemed nearly ready to fall back asleep. It pleased her that he'd woken up to request her to stay. She hoped his father would see the benefit of letting him sleep longer. Sudor did a number on him, cutting off flesh, sticking him multiple times. She shuddered at the image she'd probably never be able to suppress. B'Elanna found a nurse to heal her bruises, hoping now that the rest of Chakotay's crew were in custody, life would be easier for her and Tom.


	12. Dissemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) conceal or disguise one's true feelings or beliefs

Tom went over the month's events for the thousandth—probably millionth—time and came to the same bitter conclusion. B'Elanna was only nice to him for the get-out-of-jail ticket he offered. He'd waited excitedly for her to show up that next day like she'd promised. She never showed, not once during his stay. It was coming up on a week with his release happening later today. To make matters worse, he hardly remembered what he'd said to her or her to him. He probably imagined her saying she'd come back. Tom's audible sigh caught his father's attention.

"It's the woman isn't it?" His father asked without stopping what he was reading. What was he reading? Why did he come to "see" Tom, only to sit in the nearby chair to read.

"Why are you here still?"

"I asked a question first," his father gaze finally looked up to meet Tom's. In it was the steel that he might direct at a cadet for being too loud during a lecture. In fact, Tom knew it to be the same look he got for being just a little too loud for _one_ lecture.

"Her name's B'Elanna," Tom provided dryly, hoping that would close the topic. He had no such luck. His father even put his book facedown on his lag. Tom drew his eyes away to stare at the ceiling, trying to process it himself. He finally asked, "Were you there when she said she'd visit again?"

"I was there."

That drew Tom's interest. "I didn't make that up?"

"Why would you think you made that up?"

"I asked a question first," Tom pressured.

His dad stifled a laugh as he answered, "She said she'd visit. Your turn."

"After I blacked out the first time, everything gets blurred between dreams, wishful thinking, and reality."

"And you thought you wanted to see her badly enough that you made it up."

It bothered Tom that he seemed to know what he was thinking without him having to say it. It bothered him more that his dad was acting more like a councilor than a dad: he gave no opinions, just reflected his own back at him. "Yeah. ...You don't like her?"

"She's fine."

When Tom turned to look, aghast, he found his father had picked up his book again. "She's _fine_? She saved my life."

"She told me she owed you one. Besides, if she hadn't it would have been a Starfleet extraction team instead."

"That doesn't make sense."

"The extraction team brought you to the hospital. You must not remember."

"No, not that. _I_ owed her one. When her Captain told her to kill me she didn't." Tom went over his memories for what exactly she owed him for. There was the job help, but that was hardly anything. There was pulling some sway at the Academy, but she didn't seem keen on that. There was putting a good word for her parole, but she couldn't have known that. A knock on the open door brought Tom's hopes up like every knock did, but when he looked, all he saw was a nurse in polka dot scrubs.

"The doctor wanted me to let you know that you're free to go. If you start packing now, we can probably have the discharge papers ready for you by the time you finish," she said.

Tom lost his train of thought as he swung his legs over the bed, pausing when the motion gave him a head-rush. The nurse already left by the time he stood. His father brought him a stack of clothes and left him to change in private.

* * *

B'Elanna sloughed off her boots, leaning against the wall. All day on her feet had her exhausted. She never expected bakery work to be so tiring. She'd have thought the constant walking was something she'd be used to by now, but maybe it was because the bakery was much larger than her little engine room on the _Val Jean_ had been. She sluggishly turned on the lights and sat on her bed, laying back. She was hungry but that could wait till her feet stopped aching a little. She sat up abruptly when she remembered: she left early today; earned the reward actually. What time was it? Yes, she had time to make it to the hospital before visitor hours ended. Finally! Forgetting her sore feet, she replaced her boots and headed out the door. She'd been unable to make it, being turned away at the desk twice before. Today she'd have thirty minutes to talk to Tom.

She couldn't keep still on the shuttle to the hospital. The good thing about having to wait so long was that Tom would likely be feeling better. She looked forward to seeing him. If he was feeling better and if his father was elsewhere, she'd kiss him, actually. The memory of his stubbled cheek was still fresh in B'Elanna's mind. She hid her smile by looking at the ground between her feet as she got off the shuttle.

Realizing that she should probably pay attention to where she was going, she looked up and spotted the crisp, rectangular buildings of the hospital against blue sky and white clouds. She knew the route to the recovery ward. The line for visitor badges was short. The nurse didn't turn her away, but warned her of the end in thirty minutes. B'Elanna barely heard; she was already on her way to where she remembered Tom's room to be. The blinds were drawn and the door was closed so she opted to knock. When there was no answer, she knocked again, louder, worried that he might be sleeping after all. A woman not much younger than herself opened the door a hand's width.

"Are you the nurse?" The woman asked after a moment's pause, before she seemed to spot B'Elanna's visitor badge around her neck. "You have the wrong room." She shut the door in B'Elanna's face abruptly.

Shocked, B'Elanna took a step back. She didn't recognize the woman but that didn't mean this wasn't Tom's room. She could be a sister or a friend. B'Elanna would just have to wait a moment for Tom to explain, then she'd knock again. A pained hiss interrupted her countdown. As she was about to start over, she heard a voice she recognized and turned to see Admiral Paris giving a nurse a stern lecture on proper patient transport. He looked chagrined, but B'Elanna didn't pay long enough attention to see how he'd react. Seeing the Admiral made her look for Tom and she spotted him in the wheelchair, attempting to convince his dad that really he was fine, it was his own fault for trying to shift his footing on the chair. He didn't seem to see her yet, so B'Elanna weaved closer between the people. Just when she got to where they were, they were gone. Spinning, she couldn't spot them. What was the Admiral wearing? Black and red right? As soon as the thought it, everyone in sight seemed to switch into red and black uniforms.

She woke up breathing quickly. It hardly counted as a nightmare, but she felt shaken to have Tom so close and lose him. Standing, B'Elanna walked over to her kitchen sink for a glass of water. He was alive—that much she knew after badgering the nurse at the station the evening she couldn't get to him in the hospital; he'd discharged. She had no idea where he lived, but knew that he knew her address. Setting the glass down, she sighed, staring at the dull brown of the cabinet in front of her. If he wanted to see her, he would have by now. The sooner she forgot about him, the better.

She didn't know how long she stood in the kitchen, going over what-ifs. Her alarm finally drew her out of the trance. B'Elanna got ready for work quickly, wincing when she put on her boots.


	13. Enlace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (verb) entwine or entangle

With his final bout of skin regeneration behind him, Tom felt like a new man—or at least a complete one. He took another look in the full-length mirror at his toweled body to confirm that there were no more bruised or raw patches. The raw patches on his sides, bicep and calves now had the healthy pink glow of regenerated skin. It would be sensitive still, but at least it looked a lot better. Regardless of how it went, he was vain enough to want to look good when he caught up with B'Elanna today. He got dressed excitedly, knowing that in thirty short minutes, he'd catch her at the bakery.

After entertaining himself with a number of receptions by B'Elanna ranging from a flirty hello to getting out of there for a passionate afternoon, Tom had a hard time navigating to the bakery. He must have walked past the block three times before finally refocusing on the task seriously. He stepped into cozy atmosphere and immediately scanned the bar. Not seeing her didn't dissuade him so much as the disappointment of not seeing her made him realize he was making the right choice by coming here.

Approaching the counter, Tom asked the first person to acknowledge him, "Is B'Elanna working today?"

"She's out back taking a break. Did you want to order anything while you wait?"

Absent B'Elanna to talk to, he felt struck by the need to legitimize his presence here, so he ordered a pastry and a drink. Taking the pastry to an empty seat, he realized her being on her break was the perfect time to talk to her. He slung his jacket over a chair and set the pastry down in front of it before navigating to the back. He heard her laugh before he saw her and it lifted his spirits to hear the happy sound. He spotted her sitting on a crate, sharing a pastry and looking at the padd display between her and her talking partner. Tom recognized him as the man who suggested she work here to begin with. Feeling idiotic for thinking anything of their nonexistent relationship, he turned back for the bakery, taking his pastry and coffee with him.

* * *

B'Elanna returned behind the counter feeling refreshed. Her boss offered to show her a few funny videos to lift her spirits. The morning had been hard and she admitted to him about her dilemma with Tom. It was nice to laugh with him, and she absently wondered if he would be enough to take her mind off of Tom. That thought melted away when her bubbly co-worker told her about the blond man who asked for her.

"When?" She asked.

"A few minutes ago. I told him you were outside on your break."

B'Elanna scanned the bakery, but didn't see him. Her heart sank. Without context, if he tried to find her and saw her laughing, he might not come back. "Can you cover me for another few minutes?" She asked, though she was already on her way through the counter gate.

"Sure. Is everything alright?"

"I hope so." B'Elanna threw over her shoulder quickly. She didn't spot him outside immediately, but she also didn't realize she was looking for him in that vest he wore until the face of a man in profile caught her eye as he looked both ways before crossing the street. "Tom!"

He stopped when he heard her and turned to face her, mild surprise registering on his face. He didn't look like he would walk to her, so she walked to him. She wasn't sure what to say. For all she knew, he only came to tell her about how he put a good word in for her. She no longer had parole and she suspected it was due to Tom.

"How are you?" She finally asked when he didn't move to say anything. It felt awfully plain compared to the confessions bouncing around her head.

"I'm fine. You?"

"Good. They revoked my parole. I probably have you to thank." Tom nodded, so B'Elanna continued, "Thank you."

Tom shrugged, "You're welcome." He looked past her then. It hurt to think that his interest before was due to the, no doubt, many painkillers he was on in the hospital.

Not wanting to believe it, B'Elanna asked, "Why did you ask for me?" That drew Tom's gaze down to her own but it was unreadable. He shifted his pastry to rest on top of his cup lid before wiping his hand absently on his pant leg.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

Sensing there was more—hoping really, B'Elanna pressed, "And?"

He looked away as if it hurt to do it, "You and your new _friend_ looked happy." She touched his forearm arm gingerly, remembering vividly where the blood had previously poured from. Looking up at his face forced the memory out.

"He's just a friend," she clarified for him. Tom responded by leaning a touch closer.

He spoke softly for her ears alone, "So you won't take offense to my trying to kiss you?"

She tilted her head up, breathing, "God no," as she rose to meet his lips. She didn't think she could feel any lighter, then Tom lifted her clear off her feet with one arm around her waist. She laughed when her feet touched the ground again and their kiss ended.

"I've been wanting to do that since I put my arm around you to keep you warm."

B'Elanna smiled, refusing to think of the events following that happy moment. "Why didn't you?"

"I didn't think you were interested."

"Not interested? I love—spending time with you."

"And?" Tom pressed playfully.

Embarrassed, B'Elanna pulled out of his grasp. "And I should get back to work."

* * *

Tom let her go, but he couldn't let her half confession pass. "B'Elanna wait." She searched his eyes for suppressed laughter, but found none to her surprise. "I love—spending time with you too." Under her gaze, he panicked, but she smiled with understanding. She pulled herself back into his grasp to steal a kiss.

"That's good to know."

Tom found himself smiling as she stepped away. "Dinner?"

"Sure. I finish work at 5."

"I'll come back then."

"See you then," B'Elanna replied before turning for the bakery.

It took Tom a moment to comprehend the rapid turn of events, but looking back, he could have almost predicted it. His constant attempts to help her spoke volumes. He'd only put that much time into someone he cared about. The thought carried him through the ride home and the rest of his day. When it came time to pick up B'Elanna, Tom couldn't think of anything else, nor anything better to be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finished this one!


End file.
